


Black Wings

by The Jingo (The_King_in_White)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: awful, jesus christ why didnt i delete this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_King_in_White/pseuds/The%20Jingo
Summary: Oh my god this is so painfully bad. That said, I suppose I'll preserve it for posterity. Gives me a reminder of how far I came.





	1. The Destroyer

His wings shoot down, beating the air like some amplified thunder. As he fled from the other aspects, all four of them, he felt the bitterness well up in his heart.

They would never understand.

They didn't suffer like he had, not even 'poor' Malygos. They never heard the whispering in their ears. The vivid painting of horrific scenes. The mental torture that had driven him mad.

Oh yes, he was quite insane, he knew that. In these brief uncommon periods of reflection, where he lamented that for the most part, his mind was not his own. The old gods laughed at him, their cruel joke.

He still continued his life because he feared death, his insane mind loved it, but his small sanity hated it.

The end of days, the final solution. Deathwing was not barabaric, nor unintelligent.

As he opened his haunted eyes, staring into the clouds, he wondered if that was not better? Would his death not solve everything? He could rest in the last reaches of the spirit, spending the rest of his eternity with his black brothers. Only to be called when the final judgement occured.

A dragon aspect could not die, but their bodies could. If he was to die, his soul would flee, undamaged. And he could use his power to create another body.

But he didn't want that. He only wished to end the terror and madness.

So his wings beat, and Deathwing wheeled. Flying back into the faces of his pursuers

They launched their magics, hoping to incapacite him. Expecting him to block, or try to, they didn't know he would not.

As the balls of magic were nearly at him, he raised his head. And from deep inside, Neltharion spoke.

"I didn't want this."

Then he was struck, and his world shattered.

Alextrasza watched in horror as Deathwing plummeted to his death, and when she looked around, her sibling aspects had the same looks of horror.

They didn't expect his lack of defence.

And they knew, in those last final moments, Deathwing had persished. And Neltharion was freed.


	2. The Mad

Horror, or rather, that rolling feeling and increased heartbeat that indicated horror or joy.

Joy, most assuredly, was what obviously flowed through Malygos. Sapphire scales glimmered in sunlight as the Hand of Magic beat his wings.

Hovering in place, he watched the one being responsible for the death of his dragons and the only cause of his most conflicting insanity.

With shriek of delight rippling forth of his throat, the Blue Aspect wheeled and flew away from the place where the one known as Deathwing met his end.

Streaking into the blue sky, a bolt of blue on blue. The skeletal Lord of Magic closed his eyes against the further rush of emotional pain. Pain, or joy?

The fate of Deathwing was most assuredly justice, was it not?

He felt so very guilty that it was he who convinced his fellow dragon aspects to lend power to the weapon of Neltharion.

That forever cursed Demon Soul, and it was he, however indirectly, that destroyed his dragonflight and decimated the others.

All the aspects knew that in time, Deathwing would return. It was their privilege as near gods that they were, to return from death again and again. Unless the pantheon should choose to intervene, this is how it would be for ever.

And Malygos, with this knowledge in mind, swore to ensure the continued death of the betrayer of all his trust. He built his oath upon the hate of Deathwing and the knowledge of the monster he was. This oath, built of the emotions of Malygos and what he swore to be the truth.

But, opening closed eyes and beating his wings. The Azure Spell-Weaver pondered on the disturbing fact of those words.

If he, Malygos, truly hated Neltharion for what he was and once was, why then?

Why did those words sound so very hollow?


	3. The TImeless

Eyes of the most purest gold stared unblinkingly down the the body of Neltharion. He would refuse to call the Aspect by his alias "Deathwing". It was perhaps that the dragon Nozdormu existed at all times in all times that made this preference for him, but tyhe name sounded truer then the other.

Bursting into a cloud of sand and fading back to his domain, the dragon lord of time looked about. And stretched absently. Things would need to be pondered and decided on, as if he had all the time in the world, which he did.

The Timeless One reflected internally at this sudden change of fate. By all dictations and senses, Neltharion should have escaped and gone into hiding. It was most curious that the set course of time had been so abruptly altered, he had not thought it possible before. But then, he never did do anything but feel endless sadness every day all day.

The powers he held were both the world's greatest blessing and the greatest curse. In exchange to know things, and occassionally alter them, he paid a most terrible price.

He lived every life, every death. Every love, every hate. He experienced all experiences. All, but for four. The other dragons had never died, so he didn't know if he would be permitted to peruse their memories before the time of their rebirth. He guessed not, he felt no inclination or certain knowledge that the Earth Warder had passed into the embraces of death.

Still, with what he did experience, it was a wonder he was not mad.

Mad, like poor mad Malygos.

Mad, like Neltharion.

Mad with grief and hate and anger, crying tears no one saw and feeling pains no one guessed.

But as he stared up into the sky, maybe searching for answers amoungst the desert clouds, he wondered.

And as his eyes flicked the the golden orb in the sky, he pondered.

Maybe he had gone mad after all?

But in either case, he didn't look away or blink.

And the sun stared into the sun.


	4. The Dreamer

Green upon green upon green.

That was the substance of this emerald dream.

There had been absolutely no reason to watch the dying Deathwing. No purpose in watching the plummeting one. So it was most reasonable that she had come back here, back home.

Back to this place that was at once wonderful and hideous.

Eyes of the most brilliant rainbows opened for the second time in a few hours. The second time in many, many years.

A lithe body coiled sinuously and green scales glittered.

This was Ysera, Lady of Dreams. This was Ysera, Perciever of Nightmares.

And it was to the latter title that she now put thought to.

All of the minds that ever slept were open to her for the reading. All but one. That Black One, whose dreams she would never percieve again.

Neltharion the Black, dreams of violence, rape, and plunder. With all the fleeting overwhelming terror and hate.

She could not help but be glad, that one would not dream again, at least not for a little while.

But she could not also help but be in sorrow for the one that had once been.

Deathwing the Destroyer, Neltharion the Noble.

Laugh and weep.

Once upon a time, in days gone by. This Dreaming Mistress had once desired to be 'his' mistress. One time, in time before, the younger sister of Alextrasza had loved him. Ysera the Green had loved Neltharion the Black. And still did.

Nothing had changed her hatred for the Destroyer. Ending the minds of her children, forever shattering their dreams.

So it was with a filled heart that she had launched magic at him. Love and hate rolled about inside her and had finally burst out.

To glee, to horror.

It was well known that Deathwing had, in early days. Offered positions of servitude for his fellow Aspects in his dreams, his schemes.

It was not known to any though, that Ysera had loved Neltharion.

That she had felt the darkness that his lightness had become.

Neltharion had loved and treasured the light, the world, and life. And slowly and agonizingly twisted into something else.

A demon.

Neltharion had descended from the light, through fire, down into the darkness as Deathwing.

It was not well known that she had started to guess at this happening a short while before it did.

It was not well known that sometimes, in the darkest of nights, that she could sometimes admit a truth to herself.

Ysera wished that she had fallen with him. That she had taken his shadow to her instead of rejecting it.

That stung her, that she might have allowed foolish personal feelings to endanger others.

But still...

Dreams and Nightmares are but two sides of the same coin.


	5. The Red Queen

"Leave me, Korialstrasz."

"As you wish… Alexstrasza."

A great gusting sigh blew from her nostrils as the Life-Binder curled up, ostensibly to rest after her ordeal as Deathwing's prisoner in Grim Batol.

Deathwing. _Neltharion._

Her thoughts chased themselves, around and around; as a rabbit in its hole. Her brother was a complete monstrosity. What sort of insane beast grafted adamantine plates and spines to their own body? Deathwing. The _Destroyer_. Who simply _obliterated_ the blue dragonflight. Who simply ravaged the land, ruining the lives of the already fragile humans and elves.

An insane, violent, murderous, genocidal maniac.

The one she once called _brother_ was a creature totally undeserving of pity and compassion, she told herself. Deathwing was simply a rabid animal that had to be put down before he caused damage to anything else.

_"I didn't want this."_

Alexstrasza hissed, spitting like a broken boiler. Who did that fool think he was? How could he say that? What did he think he was doing? Challenging her convictions like that?

_What gave him the right to grasp at redemption!_

It had always been so simple to say "Black bad", and be done with it. Not even two days ago everything was black and white, easy to understand and unchanging. No surprises.

Then with four words he took her black and white paint and mixed them together. Suddenly her life wasn't so easy to read anymore. It changed. And a with a single sentence, her world was tilted. Irrevocably skewed.

Deathwing had always been the great adversary. The one gone wrong. The prodigal son of the family.

_He wasn't supposed to be redeemable!_

The Red Queen had always been comforted by the fact that even though he was her brother, his sadism was the result of his own choices. There was nothing she could have done that would have prevented his corruption and descent into evil.

Now that he had proven that he had that single good spark inside of his black heart. The bright spot that had possessed the capacity to induce such guilt in him that he allowed himself to be disembodied.

That white center was something she could have nurtured. With the right encouragement it could have grown.

Once upon a time he had listened to her, taken her advice, _loved_ her. They had been opposites, but never enemies. At least not until _that_ day.

_So what if?_

What if she had taken the time to show her twin the wonders of the heart? What if she had impressed upon him the capacity to love? What if she had taken the time to shake his prejudiced convictions about the weak mortals?

Alexstrasza curled into a tight, shuddering ball. Her lungs began to heave. And her heart ached with a strange pain.

It occurred to her that she was crying.

_Neltharion._

_My brother._

_Oh, You could have been so bright._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god this is so painfully bad. That said, I suppose I'll preserve it for posterity. Gives me a reminder of how far I came.


End file.
